


Tumblr Drabbles

by mevima



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Asexuality, Backrubs, Body Worship, Bondage, Exhibitionism, Fluff, Implied animal abuse, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Priest Kink, Rimming, Semi-Public Sex, Sex Toys, Spanking, Vampires, wet dreams
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-08
Updated: 2016-08-24
Packaged: 2018-04-19 16:33:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 28
Words: 7,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4753268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mevima/pseuds/mevima
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Any short fiction I post on Tumblr will go here, tags will be updated as it goes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hawke Brings Anders Junk (G, Hawke/Anders, Fluff)

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt for this:  
> [Tumblr](http://mevima.tumblr.com/post/128445614880/fauxfires-bubonickitten-ooh-i-like-that)  
> The prompt is like half as long as the fic so you can just go read it there! ::laughs::

The first time Hawke brings Anders a vial of… is that… bile? Anders is simply confused. He doesn’t know what to do but thank the man, who beams and leaves his clinic with a happy wave. Anders eyes the unlabeled vial, wondering what it could possibly be used for, before putting it on his highest shelf and forgetting about it.

The second time Hawke brings Anders a gift, it is a stack of torn clothing. This is at least marginally more useful, and Anders is a bit more enthusiastic in his thanks. They can be used to replace clothing he has had to cut off the poor refugees, and at the very worst, can be used as bandages. The best part is, they’re _clean_. So little is clean around here.

It becomes a little ritual - every couple of days, when they’re not seeing each other more often, Hawke will bring by a little stack of souveniers. Sometimes they’re utter junk, but sometimes they’re useful, and Anders doesn’t have the heart to tell him that those weeds are really just weeds and the best they can do is serve as fodder for a fire. The bent spoons and junk figurines are merely baffling, but Anders figures one of the refugees could use them… somehow. The shells and the flowers, though, are a cheerful addition to his clinic, and he certainly does _not_ object to the occasional bit of money.

Not that he objects to any of it.

Because it’s _cute_ , how happy Hawke is to give him these things, how the idea that he’s being helpful just lights up his face from the inside out, and Anders can’t help growing extraordinarily fond of this strange, large warrior. He begins to look forward to going out on missions with him, and then to imagine what building a life with him may be like.

As soon as Justice gets wind of those thoughts, he shuts them down with a growl. _Distraction,_ the thought floats through Anders’ mind, and he sighs. Yes. It was a pleasant idea, but they have work to do.


	2. Time to Relax (T, Hawke/Anders, Fluff, Bondage)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt is from wyvernia, "fluffy bondage"

Hawke pulled the last knot in the ropes tight with a self-satisfied hum, securing Anders' hands to either bedpost. The mage tugged a few times to make sure it would hold up, and then relaxed, face pressed into the soft pillow under his cheek. When Hawke sat back, he couldn't help but admire the view of his naked lover for a moment, smiling as he raked his eyes over his beautifully bared ass and shoulders.

After a moment of this, Anders glanced over his shoulder and wriggled that enticing ass. "Well, you've got me, love," he teased. "Now what will you do with me?"

"Patience," Hawke chided softly. Leaning over to the bedside table, he retrieved an ever-present bottle of oil, pouring a generous amount over his hands and rubbing them together to make sure his touch wouldn't be chilly. Anders squirmed impatiently again, and then let out a surprised groan of pleasure when Hawke's hands dropped to his shoulders and began digging into his stiff muscles.

The warrior kneaded and rolled the flesh of Anders' shoulders, path eased with slick oil, drawing a myriad of gorgeous sounds - long groans, pained whimpers, and soft hums - as he worked the tension free in hard pressure and soothing strokes. After a while, feeling Anders relax, he moved down to work on his lower back and began the symphony again.

Many long, delicious moments passed, the only sounds in the room the smooth glide of oiled hands, Anders' appreciative, breathy moans, and Hawke's pleased humming. Eventually he was only passing his hands lightly over scarred skin, tracing each one idly from end to end without reflecting on the painful stories behind them. There was no need, they were here in the present and the past didn't matter.

Anders finally raised his head again, just far enough to ask dreamily, "You had to tie me up for this?"

Leaning down, Hawke pressed a kiss to the small of Anders' back, and settled his hands lower to squeeze the mage's ass suggestively. "No. Got you to hold still and be spoiled, though. Got you to relax." He slapped one cheek, just hard enough to sting. "Now I can rile you up again."


	3. You Didn't Heal The... (T, Hawke/Anders, Podfic)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Conversation inspired [Kess'](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Kess/pseuds/Kess) recording inspired this ficlet.  
> [Accompanying recording.](http://dragonagepodfic.parakaproductions.com/aopod/mevima/not-ao/you%20didnt%20heal%20the.mp3) (151kb)

Hawke expected Anders to jump when he gave the mage's ass a nice, hard slap in greeting, but he hadn't anticipated the sharp yelp he got instead. It took only a moment for him to realize _why_ , and he flushed red. "You didn't heal the...?"

"Nope!" Anders' smirk was immediate and lopsided, and still a little shaken from the slap.

"But... aren't you...?" Hawke gestured towards his boyfriend's backside, thinking about how _sore_ he must still be under those robes.

"Yup," Anders grinned, rolling his shoulders and closing his eyes as if to appreciate the memory. " _Very_."

"...oh..." Hawke breathed, eyes wide, and suddenly his armor was far, far too constricting.


	4. Interdependent (G, Justice/Anders, Fluff)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Kess.

When Anders whimpers in his sleep, caught in the grip of a vivid nightmare, it immediately draws Justice's attention. He feels for the dark pathways of the Fade the mage has followed, tugs gently but can't quite disentangle him from the outside. So he settles for the next best thing, and wraps what he can of his mind protectively around Anders' thoughts, whispering encouragement and comfort.

 _You are strong,_ Justice murmurs into the back of his mind, where his words become little bursts of light, wisps of support to guide Anders home. _You are cared for, you are perfect, you make a difference._

It takes some time, but with the steady onslaught of certainty, the Fade Templars pursuing Anders slowly lose cohesion. One drifts away, distracted by a cat; one is set on fire and becomes a seed and then a sapling; one collapses in on itself, faceless armor distorting until only the Sword of Mercy is visible, red hot and melting.

As his dreams begin to follow an easier path, Anders relaxes. His mind creates playful illusions for a little girl, and produces a newborn litter of mewling kittens which need his care. He doesn't quite recognize that Justice has done this for him, but that's all right. Anders gives him - gives everyone - so much. Justice doesn't need credit for what little comfort he is able to give back.


	5. Unexpected (M, Hawke/Anders)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Asrundream was sad at a lack of Handers. Not quite smut.

They're both surprised when Anders moans as Hawke's wandering fingers dip into his navel. Hawke raises an eyebrow, and Anders flushes wildly, turning his head aside into the pillow and hoping he'll just move on.

Of course the warrior can't leave it at that. Hawke grins, and digs his thumb sharply into the indent in Anders' stomach, drawing out a low groan. "Found a sensitive spot, did I?" he smirks, rubbing in slow circles. "Want me to fuck your belly button?"

"Stop it," Anders whines, ineffectually batting at Hawke's hand, but the man only digs in harder, and his protest changes into a whimper. "That's ridiculous."

"I don't care," Hawke responds, shifting further down on the bed, fingers gripping hipbones so he can get an unimpeded angle to lick a hot trail across Anders' stomach. "Let me find all your good places," he purrs.


	6. Touch (X, Hawke/Anders)

Hawke doesn't touch him. He hovers his mouth over the pulse of his neck, skims his hands through the air over his arms, and moves forward, pressing him back against the wall with only his body heat, but he does not touch.

He doesn't touch the curve of his naked hip with his fingertips, doesn't bite down on his hipbone with bared, sharp teeth, and only the warm exhale of his breath touches his achingly hard cock.

Hawke pulls back from the desperate grab of his hands, slaps him only with a sharp glare of offense that he dared to try, and pins those disobedient hands back to the wall with his gaze.

He works him up until he's shaking under the lack of contact, caressed and controlled only by looks, gestures, body heat, breath across his skin and his own anticipation, until he's whimpering breathlessly, hips arching off the wall in a desperate bid for something, anything, any kind of touch.

Hawke works him up until, when he finally leans forward and presses the barest of kisses to the tip of his cock, he cries out sharply in surprise, hands clenching and convulsing where they're pressed against the wallpaper. When he slides his lips down to wrap only around the head, desperately leaking precum, he sucks hard and Anders comes keening in ecstasy, curling over himself and pulsing, hot and salty across the touch of Hawke's wicked tongue.


	7. Adapt (T, Hawke/Anders, Asexuality)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An attempt to show asexual Hawke. Nontraditional relationships are so important to see represented.

When, panting and flushed, Anders reached over to return the favour, Hawke stopped him with a hand on his wrist, pulling his fingertips gently back out of the waistband of his trousers. Anders' eyes shot to his face, brow knitting in confusion, and Hawke brought his hand up to kiss his fingertips.

"You don't want me to...?" Anders flicked his glance downward suggestively.

"I don't really like that." Hawke shrugged, tugging Anders' hand around until his arm rested across the warrior's shoulder, and he could pull him against his side in an affectionate embrace, rumpling the blankets underneath them.

The mage only looked more confused at that, and a bit uncertain. "Did I... do something wrong?"

"Not at all," Hawke assured him, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "You were gorgeous. I like touching you. I loved watching you come apart for me. It's not about you, Anders, I swear. I just don't really like... being touched that way."

Still frowning, Anders let Hawke nuzzle at his neck, then sighed and lay his head on the man's shoulder. After a moment, he asked quietly, "You're sure we're all right? I've never... had someone not want me. After."

"I want you." Hawke emphasized each word, pulling back to scrutinize his lover's face, expression serious. "I do. Don't worry about that part. This sounds like some cliché bullshit, but I swear, it's not you, it's me, and I _want you_ , I just don't want you - anyone - to touch my dick, okay?"

"...okay. Yeah, okay, love." Anders' smile was a bit forced as he tried to push back his anxiety, because he really did love this man. He could adjust. Honestly, if all this had been about getting each other off, Justice probably wouldn't have objected so strongly. But the years of trying to suppress his desire for Hawke had, after the beginning, been about _love_ , not sex, and if he had to make a few changes to his thinking, well. Hawke was definitely worth it.

Shifting in Hawke's embrace, Anders leaned up to steal a slow kiss. He found himself smiling sincerely, now, as well as he could through the languid press of lips and tongue. What did it matter? Wrinkles could be worked out. He had the man he'd been dreaming of, would have him for the foreseeable future, and at that very moment, nothing else seemed important.

Justice grumbled in the back of his mind, and for the first time in a long while, Anders, amused, laughed freely.


	8. Perfect (X, Hawke/Anders, Body Worship)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: From un-shit-yourself: you know i'm down for anything with anders and his luscious ass. i'll let you choose his adventure. :D
> 
> Contains semi-public sex, rimming, and body worship.

The healer had a perfect ass, and everyone knew it.

Most of them wouldn't _admit_ it in a thousand years, but it was hard to resist the attraction of the smooth curve that his jacket didn't quite hide, nor the elegant sway of his hips when they traveled.

Occasionally, Aveline could be caught pursing her lips, Merrill with a delicate, high blush, or Fenris scowling deeper than usual as they hung back to trail behind the group, gaze snagged in idle contemplation. Varric was a bit more obvious about it, tilting his head to get a new angle, briefly stopping to sketch a few aesthetic lines for future reference. Isabela, of course, was positively shameless, catching the mage's eye to lick her lips and smirk suggestively - or catching his lover's to raise her eyebrows in open invitation.

He was rarely out of the coat, but some nights at the Hanged Man, he'd wind down and relax a little, and the simple black pants he wore - when he got up from the table to fetch another round of drinks - well, one could hardly be blamed for staring.

Garrett Hawke, though, was the only one of their little group who got to see _more_ of that beautiful ass than just a glimpse of its shape. He delighted in groping it just out of sight of the others, giving a firm slap as they turned down an alleyway, or simply pressing him up against a tree a short distance away from where they'd camped for the night, grabbing luscious handfuls, kneading and sliding skin against skin until Anders cursed under his breath and made him stop before someone caught them.

When they were alone, though, Hawke _worshipped_ it: the shape of it, the dimples just at the base of his spine, the firm, heart-shaped swell and the perfect cleft that led to one of his favourite places to make his healer squirm. The feel of it, too, all smooth skin with just a hint of jiggle when he smacked it hard with the flat of his hand. And the taste - laving his tongue over the curve of one cheek, biting down gently where it met the back of his thigh, finally dipping in to lap delicately and then press firmly against the near-hidden ring of muscle.

Everyone admired Anders' perfect ass, and maybe, just maybe he encouraged it, wore his clothing just a touch too tightly and put a spring into his step, just to get these moments alone with Hawke, where he could whimper and moan and writhe, up on his knees with his face pressed into the bed under his lover's knowing touch.


	9. Wait (X, Nathaniel/Anders, Orgasm Delay/Denial)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: wardenbot said: if you do nanders please do nanders orgasm denial !!
> 
> Well, of course I do Nanders, darling! ;) A bit sorry it's so short, though.

Nathaniel was always vocal when they fucked, all quiet swearing, guttural grunts and snarls, but nothing quite like now, when he'd been touched too gently for too long and every inch of skin tingled with sensation along with the need to finally find release.

"Shit, Maker fuck, how much longer do you expect me to hold off - oh sweet Maker your tongue - wicked _demon,_ " he gasped out, curled over the healer resting between his legs, hand tangled in golden hair. Agonizingly slowly, Anders pulled away from the cock he'd been thoroughly enjoying for the past hour, lapping kitten-delicate at the drooling slit for a long moment before he even considered responding.

"If you can still ask that question," he drawled, drawing a wrecked moan from the archer with a languid stroke from base to tip, his other hand toying with heavy balls and tugging gently at coarse hair, "then it hasn't been _nearly_ long enough."

Anders went back to his work, and Nathaniel's head fell back against the wall behind him with a weak groan.


	10. Anticipation (X, Hawke/Anders, Exhibitionism, Sex Toys)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Podfic Available](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4605519).

It's not something Hawke would risk if there were any possibility of fighting, but some days their little games extend outside the bedroom. He lifts Anders' leg up to press against his chest, teases his fucked-wide opening with a quick thrust of two fingers, and then slides a plug home to Anders' whining, arching gasps. "You'll wear that for me in the market today," he rasps. It's not a question, and Anders nods, slack-jawed with want, speechless and beautiful.

All through their wanderings, talking to citizens and idly shopping, Hawke's eyes never leave Anders, greedily taking in his slightly hitched walk, glazed eyes, and mild flush, the way he leans on his staff just a touch for assistance. It's a test of endurance for both of them, an unspoken question of how long they can pretend there's nothing strange going on before one can take it no more and pulls the other into an alleyway, behind a crate and just out of sight of the bustling streets.

Hawke presses Anders up against the wall with his body, fitting chest to chest and thigh to cloth-covered cock and kisses him hard, rough lips and teeth trailing down to nip at his jaw. Anders grinds down wantonly against the friction, teeth clenching in practiced silence, and then Hawke's fingers find their way into his mouth, two stretching his lips wide, and exploring deeper to gag in his throat. The overwhelming possession is everything Anders wants from his lover, surrounded, desired, owned, and for a blissful moment he forgets everything else.

It can't last, they wouldn't go much further where anyone might turn a corner and be surprised by the sight of the Champion of Kirkwall fucking his apostate boyfriend, but Hawke bites Anders' earlobe and whispers dirty promises before pulling back. His fingers leave Anders' mouth, unable to resist thrusting just once to hear that last suppressed, needy moan. He smirks confidently, ignoring his own raging erection as Anders pants, undone, hair slipping out of his tie and spit on his lips and chin, and attempts to put himself back together for the walk home.


	11. Irreparable (T, Justice, Anders)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Self prompt: Something that Anders cannot heal.

"I'm sorry, Justice." Anders sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I don't know what else to try. I don't think I can fix this."

The faint hint of a frown appeared on Justice's borrowed face, the corpse's stiffened flesh and the spirit's inexperience with mortal expression combining to give the illusory impression that Justice had very little emotion. "Surely there's something you can do. I am certain you would have run into this particular problem before."

"Justice, you're inhabiting a corpse," Anders protested. "You're a _living Fade spirit_ , inhabiting the corpse of a Grey Warden. Everything about this is bright and shiny new. Well. Rotting and horrid new, but close enough."

Justice held his hand up to the light, eyeing the glint of silver embedded in old, dried skin. "You could remove the finger," he suggested.

"I'd really rather not remove anything we don't have to." Anders flinched at the thought. "You're held together by Maker-knows-what as it is."

"Sinew, skin, formaldehyde and elements of magic," Justice supplied immediately.

The healer twitched uncomfortably. "Yes... that. Look, I'll take it off if you really want me to, but I think there's more harm in removing the finger than in just leaving the ring where it is."

One more moment of scrutiny, then Justice put his hand down and nodded, conceding the case. If his body breathed, he would have sighed as he turned to leave the infirmary; this was merely one new issue among many to tolerate about this insufficient host.

Left behind, Anders watched him go, bit his lip, and considered possibilities.


	12. Untitled (M, Anders/Hawke, Priest Kink)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> un-shit-yourself asked: PRIEST KINKKKKKKKKKK

“You are an insufferable tease,” Anders groaned, pressing Hawke up against the confining wall of the confessional, cupping the man’s face in his hands and leaning in for a hard kiss, all ache and longing and poorly-suppressed desire. Hawke grinned and bit at his lip encouragingly, which only made Anders pull back and narrow his eyes. “And a brat,” he added.

One hand worked at the frustratingly numerous buttons down the front of his cassock, while the other grabbed Hawke’s shoulder and pressed him down to his knees. “You wanted this? You’ve been wanting this so badly you had to come in here and tell me your blasphemous, horrible, _filthy_ fantasies for weeks on end until I can’t bear but to take you, right here, in front of the pure eyes of the Maker?” Hawke nodded breathlessly, eyes fixed on where Anders finally pulled himself out, hard with anticipation. “Open your mouth.”


	13. Untitled (T, Hawke/Anders & Fenris, Drinking)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lyrapuppy asked: Established Handers drunk flirting with Fenris!

Fenris’ ear twitched where he sat on one end of the gang’s table in the Hanged Man. He didn’t know when their weekly card game had turned into this… drunken debauchery, but he wanted no part of it. Well. Except for the drinking part. He lifted the bottle of wine to his lips, taking a deep swallow as the abomination actually _laughed_ from where he was sitting in Hawke’s lap across the table. He didn’t know the man _could_.

Glancing up, Anders accidentally caught Fenris’ eye, and apparently he was far gone enough to think it was a good idea to give a saucy wink and say, “You’re the only one not enjoying yourself, Fenris! Care to join us?”

Hawke’s throaty chuckle followed, and if it we’re just him, Fenris would be sorely tempted. But he wouldn’t even _consider_ the possibility of… of anything with a _mage_. Especially _that_ mage. He growled, and made sure to take his bottle with him when he stood and stalked off.


	14. Untitled (G, Hawke/Anders, Inquisitor!Hawke)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> essiefied asked: How about some mage-loving Inquisitor!Hawke and his number one adviser (and lover), Anders.

“Again?” Anders murmured, resting a hand gently on Hawke’s shoulder as his lover made an aborted move to clutch at his arm, and instead grit his teeth against a torrent of swearing. Nodding speechlessly, Hawke refused to open his mouth and let the party lagging behind them find any sign of weakness other than the stiffness in his back.

Anders let a curl of healing magic flow down Hawke’s arm, calming the nerves and giving him a measure of relief. It wouldn’t last, it never did, but as Hawke breathed a sigh and straightened, standing tall again, Anders knew the mana expenditure would always be worth it. He squeezed the warrior’s shoulder, and Hawke quirked a cocky grin at him, a sight which had been rarer and rarer lately.


	15. Untitled (T, Fenris & Anders, Priest Kink & Vampires)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> renegadechristie asked: MEVI I need more priest kink. Or vampires. OR BOTH MAKE IT BOTH. with MILITARY TRAINED DOLPHINS
> 
> I'm ignoring the dolphins! But you can have priest Anders and vamp Fenris together. Warnings for violence and potential animal cruelty.

Anders’ head hit the filthy wall in a violent recoil as Fenris lunged forward, all animalistic growls and vicious rage. Fangs snapped closed on empty air, and the bars of the cage rattled.

“I’m _hungry_ ,” Fenris snarled, nearly beyond coherent thought.

“Then stop being _stubborn_ and drink what I’ve given you!” Anders gestured at the near-unrecognizable animal cowering in the corner of the cage and adjusted his white collar. It was cruel, but the only way he could think to sate Fenris’ new urges without killing him or someone else.

“It’s not the same,” Fenris whined, sliding to his knees against the bars, eyes fixed on the pulse jumping in Anders’ throat.

“I know.” The priest’s words were gentle, now. “I know, Fenris, but please, I don’t know what else to do.”


	16. Untitled (T, Nathaniel/Anders, Sci-fi AU)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wyvernia asked: Nanders or Handers sci-fi AU XD Strange new world.

This was the third world they’d landed on with predominantly lavender foliage, and Anders wondered if that was a theme, in this galaxy. Something about the chemical makeup of the atmosphere, maybe. He considered and discarded theories right up until the point when Nathaniel pressed him up against one of those purple-barked trees, just out of sight of where their companions were setting up their equipment, and kissed him silly.

“Nate!” Anders laughed, breaking off. “We’re supposed to be setting up a perimeter.”

“Sorry.” Nathaniel looked anything but, raising an eyebrow as he raked his gaze over Anders’ body. The man squirmed, certain he couldn’t look at all attractive in their work-issued uniforms, then bit his lip and looked up through his lashes.

“Well… we can spare a few minutes.”


	17. Untitled (M, Justice/Anders, Masturbation)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> arwingyoshi asked: Anders/Justice masturbation
> 
> This could potentially be rated X but it's not very descriptive so I'm using M.

The hand running down his body was limned in blue radiance, and Anders’ eyes fixed on his fingertips - Justice’s fingertips - as they raked over his stomach, digging gentle furrows into his skin, before slipping under the waistband of his trousers. His head tilted back on a sigh as Justice closed their fist around his cock, not teasing, not tonight. He needed to _sleep_ , this was the best way he knew how to force the issue, and Justice was not an unwelcome addition to the party.

The spirit set up a fast pace, slicking smooth over heated flesh, and it was nothing like his own hand, steady but unpredictable and definitely someone else taking pleasure in his body and his reactions. Anders gasped, choked, thrust his hips up into Justice’s grip and came over their fingers with a near-silent whimper, eyes slipping shut. He felt an overpowering wave of satisfaction and smugness echo in the back of his mind, and as well as he could manage, sent back gratitude.


	18. Modesty (G, Sebastian & Isabela, Crack)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Person A is wearing a kilt. Person B asks what they've got on under it. Person A reveals that under their kilt is another, smaller kilt. - Anonymous

" _Why_ do you wear that dreadful thing?" Isabela asked, tilting her chair back on two legs. "I swear, it's a fashion nightmare!"

"It's traditional," Sebastian sniffed. He swapped out a single card. "I may have left behind my country, but it's still important to me, so sometimes I feel I should wear the clothes of my people."

"'The clothes of your people' consist of a garish skirt? Well. At least it won't get in the way in battle! Not that it offers much in the way of armour." The pirate looked him up and down, grinning.

"Since when do you care about _armour_ , Rivaini?" Varric muttered from behind his cards. "Your ass is practically on display."

"My ass is _always_ on display, thank you very much, and I like it that way! Look but don't touch, and if you're very good, you may get a taste of the goods."

Sebastian's face was flaming as he set his hand down, shaking his head. "I fold. And it's called a kilt."

"All right then." Isabela raised a brow at him. "A stiff wind could blow your kilt up. How would you like that? What's under that thing, anyway?"

The archer grabbed her wrist reflexively as she reached for him, and then coughed and carefully released it again when she bit her lip and gave him a _look_. "None of your business!"

"Come on," the pirate queen wheedled. She tossed her hair and gave him her sulkiest pout. "If you don't let me see, I'll just have to imagine the naughtiest things!"

"...fine." The table shared a surprised blink when Sebastian stood up. Isabela sat forward eagerly as he grasped the edge of the patterned kilt, hesitating just a second before pulling it up for all to see.

Hawke's head hit the table in paroxysms of laughter at Isabela's betrayed expression when she realized she'd been cheated; the only thing Sebastian revealed when he raised that wool cloth was a shorter kilt in the exact same pattern. "What?" he demanded, glaring around the table, though Varric would later describe him as having a glint in his eye. "Don't tell me you've never heard of modesty!"


	19. Loved (X, Hawke/Fenris, Oral Sex)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: hmmmmmm how about some fluffy fenhawke smut as a prompt?

When Hawke hovered over him, smiling down, caging him in with his arms, Fenris didn’t feel constricted; instead he felt warm, cared for.

When Hawke slid down his body, laying gentle claim with tongue and teeth and hands, bites and tugs and smooth glides that stoked the fire in his nerves higher and left marks that would take days to fade, Fenris didn’t feel owned so much as cherished, wanted.

And when Hawke finally wrapped his lips around his cock, tongue probing at the cruel lines of lyrium, sparking them with sensation and overriding the ubiquitous bone-deep ache with a high of pleasure that had him arching against the bed, gasping, twisting the sheets up in his hands, beyond the ecstasy and the tense of his muscles, Fenris felt nothing less than _loved._


	20. Untitled (X, Fenris/Anders, Spanking)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pairing and prompt from menofthedas.

Fenris landed another crack on Anders’ ass, and the mage jerked where he was sprawled over the elf’s lap, fingers scrabbling in the blankets. “Wait, wait,” he rasped frantically, voice hoarse from crying out, and Fenris paused with a hand in the air.

“Too much?” the elf asked quietly as Anders trembled, trying to get himself under control. He dropped his hand to soothe gentle fingers over reddened skin, and Anders whimpered.

It was another few heaving breaths before Anders could reply, his voice muffled into the bed. “Not like you think.” Pushing himself up on shaky arms, Anders looked over his shoulder, face flushed, eyes dark. “I didn’t want to come over your lap,” he explained, then drew in a harsh breath when Fenris’ fingers clenched in response.

Before Anders could react, the warrior had pulled him up and off, pressing his shoulders into the bed, and Anders hissed as his sore buttocks scraped against the blankets. Fenris gazed down between them, a smug smile lifting his lips at the sight of Anders’ hard cock, red with need. “You’d have come from that.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yes,” Anders said, and gasped when Fenris shifted his grip, pushing his long legs up and settling them over his slight shoulders. A finger slipped into his lubed hole, testing how loose he still was from toying with it earlier, and the blond thrust down on it eagerly.

“Next time,” Fenris rumbled into his mage’s ear as he filled Anders slowly, inch by inch, savouring each delicious little whimpering cry it drew. “Next time, I will beat you until you come for me, and then I will fill you with my fingers and make you come _again_.” One hard thrust at the last, and he was fully seated, Anders clenching tight around him as his fingers pulled at the blankets.

The mage gasped out, “Maker, _yes_ , fuck me, Fenris,” and then he was screaming as his lover did just that, whispering dirty fantasies into Anders’ ear as he drove him inexorably over the edge.


	21. Untitled (X, Hawke/Fenris, Wet Dreams)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pairing and prompt from anonymous on Tumblr.

Hawke blinked slowly awake in his darkened room. He wasn’t sure what had roused him, until the warm body behind him shifted fractiously, the arm wrapped around his thick waist tightening. He wondered with some concern whether his lover was having a nightmare - not an unusual occurrence, not even after all these years - and reached down to tangle their fingers together.

Fenris’ hand clenched around his, and then he inched closer and _oh_ , that was when Hawke realized what was going on. He smirked, arching back against the hardness pressing against his ass, encouraging the way Fenris started to rut against him.

It wasn’t until Hawke turned his head, seeking a kiss over his shoulder, that he figured out Fenris was still asleep. He almost laughed, and then the elf breathed his name against his neck, in a tone he knew all too well, and the rogue sucked in a breath.

Okay, Fenris dreaming sexy things involving his name was _really fucking hot._

Debating waking the elf up to solve this mutual issue, Hawke moved to turn over, ass brushing over Fenris’ bare cock, and Fenris stiffened, stilling the slight movements he’d been making, lip curled in pleasure as he repeated, louder, “ _Hawke!”_

The rogue could only gape, his own cock stirring at the feel of Fenris spilling between them.

He was really quite grateful the beautiful warrior started to wake after that, because he wasn’t sure whether it would be rude to wake someone up just to make them get you off.

“Hawke?” Fenris asked blearily, then wrinkled his nose at the feel of the cooling fluid between them. He quickly realized what had happened and flushed, ears twitching in embarrassment as he started to rise to fetch a rag, only to be caught by the wrist and pulled back towards his lover.

“Not yet.” Gesturing to the erection now jutting proudly out between his legs, Hawke raised an eyebrow at Fenris. “This is _your_ fault.”

Fenris rolled his eyes, but the corner of his mouth twitched in amusement nonetheless. “Whatever do you expect me to do about that?” he drawled. Hawke gave him a flat look, and the elf snorted. “Well, lay back down then. I’ll take care of your little problem, amatus.”

The protest of “it’s not _little_ ,” was swallowed by a pleased groan.


	22. Untitled (T, Hawke/Anders, Nudist Hawke)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pairing and prompt from un-shit-yourself.

At first Anders had thought it was accidental, how Hawke always looked rumpled when he answered the door, like he’d just woken up or just thrown on clothes. Sometimes he wasn’t even wearing a shirt, just comfortable drawstring trousers or a loosely-tied robe, and that was particularly distracting, as Anders forced his eyes away from the well-formed chest, the dark hair trailing too far down for his wandering gaze to be unnoticed.

Then he thought Hawke was flirting with him, maybe doing it on purpose, but eventually comments from their companions revealed that it wasn’t just him who encountered Hawke that way. Isabela purred about it. Fenris and Aveline exchanged annoyed looks. Merrill hadn’t noticed it was unusual until the others pointed it out.

When Anders eventually moved in with his lover, he discovered that it was just the way Hawke was. As soon as he felt he was allowed, the clothes came off, and Bodahn just sighed and went about picking up the trail of clothing leading from the front door. More than just sleeping nude, Hawke read nude, he did paperwork nude, he ate dinner nude, and he had a variety of clothing hanging near the door for propriety’s sake when he had to answer it.

So when the party came to a clear section of beach and Hawke declared they all ought to take a swim, Anders was unsurprised when he decided the best way to do that was naked, because of course it was. Isabela wolf-whistled when his armour and clothing were dumped in a pile and he waded into the surf, hairy ass as bare as the day he was born. Varric just observed with a raised eyebrow.

The dwarf turned to Anders, noting his long-suffering look, and asked, “Hawke really just hates clothes, doesn’t he, Blondie?”

Anders sighed. “You have no idea.”


	23. Caught (X, Nathaniel/Anders, Masturbation)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pairing and prompt from renegadechristie.

Anders paused at the entrance to a hallway as he headed to his room in Vigil’s Keep. It was late, and he had been looking forward to getting some sleep after a long day, but… ah, there it was again. Somebody was having a bit of fun. He grinned to himself, turning down the corridor to investigate. At worst, he’d embarrass the hell out of someone, and at best he’d have something delicious to think about.

The low groan was unmistakable as a sound of pleasure, and Anders clucked quietly to himself. Naughty, naughty. This wasn’t even a particularly unpopulated area of the Keep: central storage rooms, a heavy thoroughfare during the day.

Ah, no wonder he could hear them, the door wasn’t even shut properly! Anders ducked his head around it quietly, eyes adjusting to the gloom slowly, the room lit only by one guttering candle set off to the side.

He, however, was backlit, easy to see, and where he’d planned a cheeky wave, his jaw dropped instead, caught frozen in the doorway by an unavoidable bolt of lust.

Nathaniel was seated on a table, his head thrown back, one hand fisting rapidly over his cock - and _what_ a cock, Anders had been hoping to see it for some time and it did not disappoint - the other up his shirt, obviously tugging on a nipple as he let out another of those groans that echoed down the hallway. Anders swallowed, unable to tear his eyes away, shifting as he felt himself harden in his trousers.

The door creaked when Anders pressed a hand against it to steady himself. Nate’s eyes snapped open, and he stopped all movement, speechless as he caught sight of Anders standing in the doorway. His face, already flushed from arousal, flared bright red in the candlelight, and Anders offered a nervous smile. “Couldn’t make it to your room?” he joked weakly.

The archer’s mouth worked soundlessly, and then he looked down and hastily covered himself, dropping his shirt and trying to tug his trousers up. Anders bit his lip. Nate had pushed him away before, but this was too delicious an opportunity to pass up, and what was the worst that could happen, anyway? Nate rejected him again? Maybe a black eye, if he tried too hard, and he’d laugh about it later with Sigrun.

A creak and a soft click, and Nathaniel stopped fumbling with his clothing to look up at where Anders stood, just inside the now-closed door. A myriad of possible openers ran through the mage’s head, and he finally settled on, “Let me help you with that.”

“Shit, you’re real, aren’t you?” They were the first words Nathaniel had managed, choked and small, and he couldn’t seem to help himself when he continued, “I was thinking about you.”

It was more than Anders had hoped for. “Good,” he smiled darkly, as he stepped forward and dropped to his knees.


	24. Voyeur (M, Hawke/Anders, Justice)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the Justice day of Anders Appreciation Week.

Justice knew what sex was, of course he did. He had seen it in mortals' dreams, had absorbed an echo of the reality of it through Kristoff's memories, had heard the wardens and other people speaking of it and even engaging in it. He knew mortals used it to feel closer to each other, to share love, or simply to feel pleasure, and that it was an enjoyable act. But he had never _understood_ it, understood why mortals would crave it so, before Anders.  
  
Anders loved sex. It was always the one spectacular thing he could have for himself in Kinloch Hold, something not controlled by templars or senior mages, something wonderful that was simultaneously taking and sharing and giving. Of course, the fact that when done properly, it felt _amazing_ , had a bit to do with that love.  
  
It was awkward, then, after the two of them merged, after the panicked flight from Ferelden and the cramped ship that brought them to Kirkwall, when Anders began to want it again. He craved being physically close to someone, watching their ecstasy, feeling his nerves burn. Justice hardly understood why he felt the need to wrap his hand around himself sometimes; how could he understand this new desire? He attempted to suppress it, objected to what he felt was an unnecessary complication, and they fought, in the depths of their shared mind, until Anders threw his hands into the air and his body onto his bed, reluctantly giving up the idea for the moment.  
  
But now, now Justice thinks he gets it, as Hawke's mouth slides over Anders' neck for the first time and his host shudders at being wanted; as Anders pleases Hawke with his tongue and fingers and groans at the sounds of his lover's pleasure; as Justice watches Anders become overwhelmed with heat and need when Hawke's fingers thread through Anders' hair, their tongues tangling, as close as two people can get, the bed a creaking counterpoint to their desperate cries.  
  
It is a distraction, Justice thinks, but a worthy one, companionship and intimacy something he has to admit his host needs beyond merely food and shelter, and something he may be more than a little curious about himself.  
  
Hawke chuckles as Anders' eyes glow briefly blue. "Does your spirit always watch you do this?"  
  
"You're the first, with Justice here," Anders replies, thoughts turning inward. The bloom of eager anticipation, acceptance and curiosity, make him smile. "But I think it may become a habit."


	25. Untitled (M, Zevran/Alistair)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt, from menofthedas: Zevran broke the kiss to remove his shirt, wasting no time before tossing it aside.

Zevran broke the kiss to remove his shirt, wasting no time before tossing it aside.

Alistair blushed, though he’d seen the elf naked before; hard to avoid, with as much camping as they did together. “A-are you sure this is - Maker! - are you sure we’re alone?”

“If we are not, perhaps dear Wynne will get an eyeful,” Zevran said flippantly, pulling at Alistair’s clothing now. He smirked at the man’s shameless moan when he slipped his hand down Alistair’s trousers, impatient. “Well! It looks as if I have a _large_ task to accomplish.”


	26. Exhausted (G, Anders & Isabela)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt, from skasha: Anders coughed a few times while trying to wave away the purplish smoke still billowing from his clinic's door. "All right, that definitely wasn't the right ingredient."

Anders coughed a few times while trying to wave away the purplish smoke still billowing from his clinic's door. "All right, that definitely wasn't the right ingredient."

“Well, what should I know? I’m a pirate, not an herbalist!” Isabela protested defensively. The herb had looked exactly like Anders had described it; it wasn’t her fault the vendor had sold her the wrong thing.

“No, you’re right, Izzy, I should have left _you_ here to deal with the frantic family while _I_ went to find the ingredients for the antidote. Makes perfect sense,” Anders snapped, and then sighed. “It’s fine. Thank you for trying. He’ll be fine, I just… need to use more magic.”

Anders glanced at the empty shelf where the lyrium potions normally sat, the latest conflict with the Carta having removed any chance of getting smuggled lyrium dust, much less actual, precious potions. He strained for any more bits of mana lingering in his system, and if his eyes glowed blue and his skin crackled as he healed the young girl, their family was too grateful to wonder.


	27. Claustrophobia (X, Nanders)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompted by Caden-shok for Nanders, "Come over here and make me."

"Raise the mage-light a bit, I can't see."

"Why don't you come over here and make me?" Anders teased, and when Nathaniel's gaze shot over to him, he was lounging against the cave wall, all sharp grin and challenge, as if they were in one of their rooms at the Keep and not on a week-long expedition into the Deep Roads.

"Seriously?" the archer hissed, "You want to do this _now_?"

Anders only raised an eyebrow, tilting his head up to stare Nathaniel down. The Deep Roads always left him antsy, a bit wild, the walls closing in and leaving him nowhere to escape, but he was too valuable as a healer to leave behind. With the two of them practically alone together, and the tension in the air sinking into Anders' bones, he intended to turn it to a more practical purpose.

A pause, a hesitation in which Anders had almost prepared to toss it off as a joke and go back to mushroom-hunting, and then Nathaniel was crowding into his space, pressing the mage's hands into the wall on either side of his head.

Their lips crashed together in a harsh meeting of teeth and low groans, before Nate's hand fisted into Anders' hair, and he forced the blond to his knees. "You'd better do it quick," he growled. "They won't wait long before they assume something's gone wrong."

Anders only nodded hastily, tugging purposefully against the hand in his hair, watching eagerly as Nathaniel fumbled with the ties to his trousers. He'd only glimpsed a flash of skin before he was surging forward, fingers digging into the rogue's thighs, mouth pressed to his rapidly growing cock. Nathaniel encouraged it, threading his hands through thick blond locks and pinning him in place, exactly the fast, rough, _now_ that Anders encouraged every time they did this. He'd grown a bit addicted to it, thinking of the hungry way Anders threw himself into their encounters whenever he touched himself late at night, too stubborn to seek the healer out.

Now, though, Anders' mouth was on him, messy and hot, and Nathaniel groaned as his tongue sparked with a tease of electricity. "None of that," he snapped, jerking on Anders' hair. "Just your mouth, fuck."

With a little moan of agreement, Anders took him deep, every movement tugging on his hair, until his senses were filled with the scent and the taste of the rogue, little shocks of pain and the heavy weight on his tongue. He couldn't think of anything else any more, just intensity and the overwhelming need to make Nate come undone.

One of the hands left him, and Anders glanced up through his lashes to see the rogue covering his own mouth with it, trying to swallow the loud, desperate sounds that normally had the Keep echoing. The mage grinned and cheated, mouth blazing with unnatural heat, the reaction exactly what he'd hoped for when Nate _swore_ and doubled over, thrusting into his throat and _holding_ him there as he pulsed and jerked and came so hard his thighs trembled under Anders' fingertips.

After Nathaniel finally remembered himself and pulled back, Anders gasped for air, coughing a little around the stickiness of his throat. When he looked up, Nate was tucking himself away, expression tight.

"That's it?" Anders asked, licking his lips, voice rough from his battered throat. "Just gonna use me and leave me, Nate?"

The archer glanced him over, then stepped back, gripping his weapons as he let Anders climb to his feet on his own. "That's what you want, isn't it?" he asked gruffly.

Chest still heaving, pleasantly hard under his robes, a distraction that would have him heavy-lidded and languid for the next while, Anders couldn't argue.


	28. Snow (G, Kanders)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompted by Caden-shok for Kanders, "Don't you dare throw that snowba - goddammit!"

In the Circle tower, where the windows were narrow and the time outside was limited, it was extraordinarily hard to experience weather, much less get a hold of _snow_ , but somehow Anders had managed it, practicing with ice magic until his fingertips were near frostbitten, until the snow was fluffy enough not to hurt, soft enough to melt slowly in his hand, and hard enough to hold together.

The snowball was _perfect_ , a masterpiece beyond measure, and he kept his hands carefully gloved and freezing, risking his health, just to show it off.

Karl asked to see it, and Anders grinned and handed it over with a flourish.

With the other apprentices looking on from their bunks, Karl hefted the snowball in his hand, a contemplative look on his face. Anders' eyes widened in alarm, yelping, "Don't you dare - " just before the puff of ice hit him in the face.

The only reason it didn't descend into a fight was the threat of Templar intervention, and the fact that Anders didn't have any more snowballs saved up. He pouted, and Karl pet his hair soothingly. "You'll make another one. Better, this time."

"There's no better. That was perfect," Anders protested, but the gentle touches were getting to him, and he sighed in contentment.

"Someday, I'm going to see real snow again, Karl."

"I know, Anders." The lie was as soothing as his hands.


End file.
